My Friend Diana
by Fomalhaut16
Summary: Arthur remembers the moments he spent with Princess Diana and reflects on his reaction to her death.


**Disclaimer: Neither Hetalia nor its characters belong to me. **

**-Warning:**** I am not an expert in the history of Princess Diana as others are. These are just some random events from Arthur's point of view.**

**I do this story by remembering the 22 years of Princess Diana's death. **

* * *

You shouldn't have had the least importance. And why should I, have you some esteem. I have seen so many beautiful faces, so many diamond smiles, so many expectant eyes and yet, lost in the most indifferent melancholy that overwhelms the soul in anguish.

So many insignificant and pretentious faces, so many aristocratic girls have gone through life that, why should I have you the slightest attention. I didn't.

My globalized mind could pay little attention to what was done at home, and as you know, they were not times of freshness and delight.

But I didn't know, and I should have sensed it, that not even me, my dear, would escape your infectious light. I cannot say that at first I liked it, or that you caused me the least commotion, you were simply there, and I could not look away much longer either.

I knew you without knowing it, but the first glimpses of your image, the beginning of your odyssey I remember it shortly before your marriage became official. I remember you redeemed and I, watching uninterestedly in the remoteness. Everyone already loved or pretended to do it, you seemed happy at the beginning, being the princess is every girl's dream, isn't it, darling?

But I know very well that your pain started right there, your anguish was already nuisance you. Overwhelmed, persecuted, pressured, courted by the one you did not love as in a virgin and childlike reverie.

And I was there, in living room, like an omnipresent figure, sitting while embroidering, when you told them "I think I don't want to do this"

"-Oh dear. Your faces are already all over London"

Your eyes echoed the cornering, anxiety, and acceptance.

And there I felt sorry for you.

* * *

.

Everyone treasured you, literally. There were no eyes that looked away from you. From the first moment, they looked for you, idolized you, revered and blushed at your gorgeous smile. Like in love. But you and I know, it wasn't love but it became an obsession. It was the reflection of what every woman wanted to be, and what every man wanted to possess. And yet, you suffered, you would suffer alone, because the only one you were looking for, the only one your eyes were pleading with, he turned away his green sight. And so, alone, you endured everything. Your marriage without love, the expectations of royalty, the thousands of eyes that devoured you even in the deepest part of your being, Princess of Wales.

When I asked my brother about you, he just replied "I have nothing to do with your games".

And yes, Princess of Wales was only a title, and even alien to Wales. But everyone loved you and loved you, aristocratic lady, that's why they looked for you to marry him, your family was the important one in the equation.

And yet, everyone was so unfamiliar and apathetic at you the same time.

When your first child came, everyone was happy and you, relieved. That was your main purpose, that already useless tradition of providing an heir.

They were times, then, calm and we began to talk, I, unable to look away. You were clearly not happy at all, but to be tried, and more knowing the dark and painful times I was going through. It had finished the short, but horrific Falklands War. You quickly realized that I was broken. That my depression had sunk me into an irremediable torment of suffering, of suicide, of doubt, and you, in spite of my previous coldness, held my hands, and you didn't leave me alone.

"You have suffered so many wars, so many battles, why has this short war affected you so much?" You asked me cordially, holding my hands, looking for my eyes.

"It's because when I cornered Argentina, that youngster, I looked into his green eyes and saw myself"

.

* * *

At that point you knew that he didn't love you at all, and that in fact, everyone knew it in a certain way.

"He loves her. He loves Camilla and not me"

"I know. It's obvious, but don't hate him dear…"

"I don't hate him, but it offends me in a way"

Deep down his infidelity hurt you, but why, if you didn't love him either. I felt sorry for you, and when the entertainment world began to be up-to-date, you became much angrier, but you didn't show it. You continue with your smile, with your cheerfulness, and I followed you with my eyes. You and I were already close, I wanted you to smile without pretending and no more affliction.

* * *

.

When you started to let you go, to reveal yourself, to show you more "liberal," the world exploded. The royalty did it, without being able to endure the disgrace caused by your behavior. The showbiz did it, chasing you, and you pleasing them, as in a toxic symbiosis. I think that was when I loved you for the first time in a real way. Your rebellion identified me, I liked to believe that it was also in protest, I was in struggle with the workers and miners against that bitch of Thatcher and you rebelled against the hypocritical ethics of the nobility, I liked you for it, I take you seriously when you did.

I laughed at the comments towards you, the queen's annoyance, and you, as fresh as ever.

* * *

.

I had never seen you so destroyed, so desolate, demolished and devastated in tears.

You had gone to talk to the queen about an issue you would find for charity and assistance. We all knew about your warm humanist inclination. Charity was cold, but not in your case. And although you looked excited, I wouldn't tell you that your attempts were in vain, paternalistic.

But you came out crying from the meeting, getting in the car in a wrecked state. The queen had rejected you, feeling disgusted by your proposal. AIDS. That's what you had proposed. A true taboo for the time. I wasn't surprised at the queen's reaction, but I knew she didn't love you on her own. I saw you sadly, or you were very naive or you had done it on purpose. Even I, not being human, was afraid to lie in with Francis because of that issue.

This fact showed me somehow your reality: that you would suffer endlessly. Just like me.

* * *

.

"...and I suppose, in love?" the reporter asks in the clip.

"Of course," the then-Lady Diana Spencer replies coyly.

"Whatever 'in love' means," Charles responds with an unexpected laugh as Diana giggles nervously in response"

When this happened, the world exploded again, and the hearts that loved you were divided. Even I was dazed.

Some supported Charles, others you. Both sides began to hate each other. But only I understood their situation, and especially yours. Unrequited love, a forced union can generate pain and even hate, I knew it well. And that scene revealed what everyone should have already know, but because of their ideas and standards being broken they decided to overlook.

You were flawless, and yet, disastrous as a couple. I still supported you, my dear.

* * *

.

If there were still hopeful hearts in reflecting their desires and fantasies in the royal couple, everything was clear with that photo of you, alone, in the Taj Mahal, symbol of love. I know you did it on purpose, I know, you took advantage of the natural attention on you, and gave the message. By that time your relationship with your husband was already very bad. Although the queen didn't like that at all. Francis and I always support you; we knew about your intelligence and strategy; I knew you were trying to free yourself from that which from the beginning you regretted.

The people loved to fantasize about you, about royalty, they still do. It is their drug, so they escaped intermittently from the overwhelming life they led. After all, that's what royalty is for now, the soap opera of the villagers. And you played that game well, too well.

But there is always a turning point, and yours came by not being able to withstand everything anymore. The lie, the looks, the no love, the pressure, the prejudice, the pretending.

You couldn't stand the queen anymore, nor did she support you, but your internal quarrel was difficult. The divorce is very frowned upon, or at least at that time it was still frowned upon. But when I knew you would do it, I celebrated. I couldn't wait to see you free of it all, I couldn't wait to see the broken fantasies of the journalists, I couldn't wait for the titles to be taken away so it was just you.

It was difficult, but you got the custody of your children, you had your money, Kensington Palace and you even kept the nice title of Princess of Wales, but you were no longer of the royal family. I didn't care, I was even happy for you.

We both believed that everything would improve, but I should have known my world better, those around me, so that I would know that it wouldn't be.

* * *

.

\- "Do you love him?"

You thought for a moment.

"I think so. Yes."

The hot sun of the ocean hit us, the sand flying through our hair. Your romance with your new boyfriend Dodi Al-Fayed had not gone unnoticed. Royalty loathed him and they reviled you for loving him. They didn't like him because he was Arab and Muslim, but as long as you were happy, I supported you.

They were really mad at you, I warned you. But you smiled at me, you took my hands, looked at me, very close.

-"It doesn't matter. I have you, dear friend whom I love."

-"How can you love me? I'm a monster. I've done atrocious things. I have more blood on my hands than anyone, even my brothers' blood"

-"Yes, you are wicked. But at the same time, you are good, and I only have you, my beloved."

You have little time left, and no one could prevent the catastrophic end of your story.

* * *

.

I can tell you there was a before and an after you. Don't worry, I won't remember you as another pretentious and coldly melancholic lady of life. And although I always believed that your humanistic attempts were useless and even false, I can congratulate you that you actually accomplished something significant.

I remember well when I found out. Everything around you was easily known, and yet I was not the first to hear about the event.

It was Francis, he came to see me, with a serious look and voice.

\- "Arthur, mon amour"

-She is dead"

-What?

\- "And Arthur, there is much more to tell you ..."

I didn't fall into account in fact. I didn't even go to see your body. Too shocked, I regretted it, I went with Francis to see the car, I heard everything I had to hear, and more than sadness a terrible anger invaded me.

That the nobility didn't show signs of anything before your death enraged me as I had not been for a long time. The people also got upset, they went out to claim some words from the queen, me too. Attached to the lattice of the Palace, I waited and waited. They even started talking about getting rid of the monarchy, and I really supported it. Why did we support a royal family that nothing did? Like any other person, the nobles invented delusions of a nonexistent greatness. Maintained by the people, those parasites gave me real disgust, and ironically more when the queen gave her words for Diana.

It was the point that overflowed me.

* * *

"She was pregnant"

* * *

Too devastated as I was, I couldn't leave things like that, and went to see her.

I told the queen everything I really had to say a long time ago, like using your death as a conduit. I entered the room, uprooted, violent. She didn't answer me, nor looked at me, I guess I scared her. I yelled, I cried. They held me, but no one could stop my words.

"... I know you well, dinosaur, and believe me, that this time will be the last time I talk to you. From today, I will not return to royalty, I will not treat you differently from others. I will treat them as I treat all, as I treat teachers and workers, police and greengrocers.

You are done to me! "

They forced me out, forging, and left me there, in the hall, alone and lying. I felt the worst in many ways.

Only there I discovered that you were truly gone, that you had been taken from me and that I, seemingly eternal, would have to remind you until my long years have been consumed, remember you and forget you, princess.

And at that moment, when I knew it, Diana, I could only cry.

* * *

**I hope you liked it. I wanted to publish it yesterday that was the day of her death but I couldn't. **

**Remember: English is not my mother tongue, so if this is not so good or I have mistakes do not hesitate to comment!**


End file.
